


Footwork

by False_Positive



Category: Batman (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Bat Family, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-07
Updated: 2013-10-07
Packaged: 2017-12-28 16:28:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/994078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/False_Positive/pseuds/False_Positive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Somehow, despite how public his life as Tim Wayne was and how nosy all of his brothers were, Tim had miraculously been able to keep his new habit a secret, from everyone. Even Tam didn't know."</p><p>Or that one in which Tim gets caught in the act of doing something potentially embarrassing, and his brothers let him know how they feel about it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Footwork

He had never really meant for this to become a thing, but yet there he was, sitting in the chair at the back of the salon, leaning back deep into the chair, eyes closed, mind drifting, shoulders bouncing slightly as the chair performed an automated massage. One foot was soaking in the blue heated water whilst the other was extended out on rest, being skillfully tended to by the pedicurist.

And for once, Tim’s mind wasn’t on his job, or his other job. It wasn’t racing through business proposals or dreading tomorrow’s board meeting. It wasn't trying to piece together the latest movements of a new gang or trying to track the latest drug shipment. Instead, it was gloriously, blessedly, blank.  
Unfortunately, his moment of solitude was disrupted by the chirping of his phone. Sighing, Tim opened his eyes and picked up the phone off the table beside his chair. It was a text message from Dick.

YOU FREE?

“Nope,” was Tim's internal response upon reading the message, slightly irritated at the interruption to his Tim time. “Definitely not free.”

SORRY DICK. STUCK AT THE OFFICE.

Sure it was a lie, but honestly, he didn't feel bad. Tim had left the office a solid thirty minutes ago in order to keep his regularly scheduled appointment - his regularly scheduled pedicure appointment, that is. It occurred the third Thursday of every month, and he had yet to miss it. It was sometimes the only thirty minutes in his month that Tim had solely to himself. Somehow, despite how public his life as Tim Wayne was and how nosy all of his brothers were, Tim had miraculously been able to keep his new habit a secret, from everyone. Even Tam didn't know. All she knew was that Tim needed his schedule blocked off. 

Out of everyone, Bruce was the only might know. He was the world’s greatest detective after all. But if he did know, he was keeping mum about it. His brothers remained clueless. And that is exactly how Tim intended to keep. He could only imagine the type of harassment he would be forced to endure if they found out. Red Robin, terror of the night, got pedicures a regular basis? He would never live it down. At least that’s what Tim told himself to further quash any guilt he felt for lying to Dick.

The pedicures had started simply enough. Tim had been trying to get away from a gaggle of journalists that had caught him expectantly at his favorite coffee cart whilst he was grabbing his afternoon brew. At first he was upset with himself, being so distracted by the lure of own personal elixir of life that he had let them get the drop on him. Thankfully, Tim had recently been downgraded from his crutches to cane, and with a few slick moves and some highly advanced distraction techniques (“Oh my God! There’s a man on the roof! He’s about to jump!”) and Tim had slipped through the nearest door he could, which just happened to be the entrance to a small nail salon. He expertly hid himself along the frame of the door as the journalists realized his trick began and scouring the block for him. He was so intent on watching their frantic search for him, he almost didn’t notice the woman talking to him. 

“-have an appointment?”

“Excuse me? What?” came Tim’s startled reply.

“I asked if you had an appointment.”

“Um, no I am sorry, I just-"

“No problem. Walk-ins are always welcome. Are you here for a pedicure or a manicure?”

“Um, a pedicure?”

“OK.” The woman said eyeing him with an eyebrow slightly raised. “Go ahead and just grab a chair in the back. Someone will be right with you.”

“Yes, of course. Thank you,” he managed as he fixed himself with a Tim Wayne smile and headed to the back of the salon. Selecting the chair furthest back that he could be sure would hide his view from the street, Tim made a show of carefully climbing into the slightly raised, heavily padded chair with a large foot basin attached to the front of it. He was recovering from a spinal injury as far as the public was aware, and certain farces needed to be kept up.

A moment later, another woman came over, poured salt crystals into the tub at his feet and turned on the water. After she assisted Tim in removing his shoes and socks, he gingerly dipped his feet into the now blue tinted water. He forced himself not to think about how many other people had been in this chair, had soaked their feet in this tub, and just how thoroughly it may or may not have been cleaned in between.

Then the woman reached up and hit a button on the chair’s armrest and it started to vibrate and roll against his back.

“How’s the water? Too hot?”

“No, it’s great. Thanks.” Tim replied. And it was. Jets bubbled the warm water around his feet. And if Tim was honest with himself, the combination of the tub and the chair felt pretty wonderful. Almost worth losing his coffee for. Almost.

A small cart was wheeled over. It was covered with clippers, towels, lotions, scrubs, pumice stones and other items that Tim had no idea what they were. The pedicurist carefully pulled one foot out of the water and placed it on a folded towel on the rest in front of the tub. Then she began to inspect his feet.

“You’re pretty hard on your feet, aren't you?”

“Oh yea, you know, I try to keep active. Lots of physical therapy” Tim said forcing a smile and he indicated the cane leaning against his chair. It wasn't exactly a lie.

“You've got a quite a few calluses. Do you want our supreme service? It will work wonders on your feet.”

“How long does it take?” Tim asked calculating how much time he would need before he could consider the reporters truly lost, and how long he could avoid the office before Tam sent a search party.

 

“Sounds perfect.” He replied. That should be plenty of time to lose the goons. 

“OK, sit back and relax, and I’ll get to work” she stated. And despite the fact that Tim kept glancing at the door, and despite the fact that there were strangers touching him, Tim relaxed. At first he was mesmerized by methodical way in which his feet where scrubbed, buffed, and trimmed, but when she started to massage his feet and calves, Tim just about turned into putty. And then, far too soon, it was all over and the water was drained from the tub.

Reluctantly, Tim put his shoes and socks back on and handed the pedicurist his credit card. He had enjoyed that way more than he had intended to. 

“With feet like yours we recommend you come in every few weeks. We’ll take care of those calluses for you.” 

“Every few weeks? I think I could swing that.” He replied, smirking. Swing it. Tim was riot, if only in his own mind.

After giving a his pedicurist a big tip and scheduling an appointment, Tim carefully checked the streets before slipping out and heading back to office. 

And that’s how Tim found himself here, in the chair at the back of the salon every month, enjoying 30 minutes of solitude and relaxation. And nothing, not even Dick or the fear of being caught was going to take this time away from him. He had simply told Tam that he had a monthly appointment for the foreseeable future and to make sure the afternoon of his day was blocked off. He purposely kept his reasons and all information about the appointment ambiguous, and Tam, surprisingly accepted it at that, probably falsely assuming it had something to do with his night job. 

His phone chirped. It was another text from Dick.

WHEN WILL YOU BE DONE?

Sighing, Tim replied.

DON’T KNOW. IT COULD GET LATE.

Then his phone was silences and tucked it away, and Tim attempted to go back to his happy place. He closed his eyes as the woman at his feet continued to massage lavender scented oil into his soles and calves. Tim had no idea how much time had passed before he vaguely heard the door at the front of the salon open and the receptionist voice speak her usually greeting, but Tim tuned them out.

Big mistake.

“So this is what getting stuck at the office looks like, huh Timmers?”

Eyes flew open and Tim jerked upright, accidently yanking his foot out of his pedicurist’s grasp.

“Dick! But – What- How did you – Why?”

“I am assuming there’s a complete question in there somewhere. Also, maybe an apology. You lied to me, Timmy! I stopped by your office when you stopped replying to my texts, and Tam said that you weren't there. That you had left for your ‘regular’ appointment about 20 minutes ago.” 

Tim continued to stare at Dick like a guppy fish. Dick took that as permission to continue. 

“So that got me kind of concerned, you know? Just what kind of trouble had you gotten yourself into that you had a regular standing appointment? One that not even Tam knew the reasons for. Were you sick? Were you…”He glanced at the woman who had resumed massaging Tim’s calf, “working on a ‘side project?’ So, justifiably, I tracked the GPS on your phone and found you here, of all places.”

“Dick, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to lie to you. I just, well, I just didn't want you to find out about this.”

“Why? Were you embarrassed of what I would say if I found out that my adorable baby brother get pedicures on a regular bases?”

“Maybe?”

“Wow, Timmy, I am hurt by your lack of trust in me. After all these years, everything that we have been through, you thought you had to hide this from me? It feels like you just stomped all over my heart.”

“I know Dick, I know, I just-"

“It’s ok Timmers, I forgive you. In fact” Dick said, a devilish grin spreading across his face, “I know how you can make it up to me.” 

Tim took a deep breath. He knew what came next could not be good. 

Dick plopped into the empty chair next to him, pulled out his phone, and sent off an ominous text. Then turning to Tim’s pedicurist, Dick smiled and said, “I’ll have what he’s having.”

It didn’t take long for Dick to make himself completely comfortable, babbling away to both Tim and his pedicurist. 

“Wow, Timmy, this is great. I would never, ever give you crap about this. In fact, this is pretty toe-riffic."

“Really, Dick? Toe-riffic?”

“Toe-tally,” Dick smirked back.

Tim could only groan. Unfortunately, then the door flew open, and another member of the Bat Clan entered the salon. 

“Yo, Dickie bird? What the hell? I got a text that said family emergency and to meet here.” Jason raised an eyebrow looking at Dick and Tim. “This doesn’t look like an emergency, unless Mr. Bubble Toes Timmy over there is having bunion issues. In which case, that’s more of a personal problem.” 

“Hey Jay-bird! I am so glad you made it! Sit down, put your feet up!”

“Seriously Dick, you called me down here for a pedicure?”

“Well, not just a pedicure, Jason, but to teach a little bird a lesson in honesty. You see, Tim felt the need to lie, to ME of all people, about the fact that he’s been getting pedicures.”

“Really? Tim would lie about getting pedicures? Now that’s just low, Baby Bird. You’re right Dick. He needs to be taught a lesson on the importance of honesty.”  
“Besides,” Dick added, “B is unknowingly footing the bill on this one.” 

“Well,” Jason said plopping in the chair across from Dick, “then consider me a shoe-in.”

“Trust me, you will not regret your decision.” Dick said as he leaned back, grinning.

And before Tim knew it, both Jason and Dick were sitting in chairs, flipping through trashy magazines and chatting up their pedicurists. Tim pinched his own arm. Was this real? 

“Grayson?! What is going on? Why did you call me here?” 

“Little D! Sit down! Soak your feet! We’re getting pedicures!”

“Have you lost your mind? Do I look like someone who would partake in this?”

“Cool it, D. We’re here for Tim.”

“Of course this would be Drake’s idea. He would need to connect with his feminine side. It’s probably how he is able to pull off his undercover identities so well. I however, feel no need to do that. I am just surprised he was able to get you and Todd to join in as well.”

“Hey, that’s a little callus, Damian, even for you.” Dick said, grinning far too amused by how own puns.

“Dick’s right. It’s like someone you got a rock in your or something. Tim may be doing this to better fit into his new pair of heels, but I will have you know that pedicures are a totally gender neutral activity, Princess.” Jason added.

“Don’t you call me that Todd, or I will remove your feet.”

“Go ahead Damian. Sock it to him,” Tim retorted, with a shake of his head.

“Don’t tempt me, Drake.”

“Careful, Tim. We don’t want little D to rub your feet the wrong way.” Dick interjected again.

“What’s afoot here?” asked Stephanie as pushed past Damian to take a seat in the chair next to Jason. “Whatever it is, It looks definitely looks like the family emergency I was texted about. What’s up with D? Did he break a nail?”

“Probably. The little Demon is afraid of being mistaken for a girl, since apparently only girls can get pedicures.” Tim responded.

“Really, Damian?” Stephanie said, turning the full power of her stern gaze on the 10 year-old. “You are going to tell me that only girls can care about their feet? That only girls have podiatric needs? That only girls can get pedicures? That’s pretty close-toed, even for you. Don’t you agree, Dick?”

“Wholeheartedly, Stephanie. How should he be punished for such an attitude?” 

“Well, I am going to get my nails painted eggplant. I think Damian should too.”

“Or should we maybe go for more of a fuchsia?”

“Grayson! How dare you! I am not-“

“Sit down and put your feet in the tub and maybe I will let you out of here without flowers and rhinestones on your toes.” Stephanie informed him.

“Better do it Little D.” Dick spoke up. “She looks ready to file you down to size.” Grudgingly, Damian sat down next to Dick and allowed his own pedicure to begin. There was no overcoming Dick and Stephanie when they teamed up against you.

“Stop with the theatrics, Damian,” Jason said in response the giant pout that was present on the ten year-olds face, “At least you don’t have bunions like Timmy over there.” Jason said, barely looking up from his magazine.”

“I don’t have bunions!” Tim stated annoyed. He took way better care of his feet than that. 

“Denial’s a dangerous thing Timmy. If they get bad enough you might need to have them surgically removed. And that would mean weeks off your feet while you ‘heel.’” Jason responded. 

“Guess we’ll just have to join Timmy for his next appointment won’t we?” Dick stated.

“Really, guys? You don’t need to –“Tim tried to interject, but Dick cut him off.

“We wouldn't want you to let this get clipped out of your busy schedule, Timmy. Like a good insole, we are here to support you.”

“You are all a bunch of idiots.” Damian sulked.

“A bunch of very corny idiots. I’m toe-tally in.” Stephanie replied. 

“Count me and my toes in too,” Jason added.  
“I will not be part of this madness, Grayson.”

“Of course you will be Little D. Or else you just might not have an older brother to buy that M rated video game that Bruce said ‘no’ too and you are too young to get on your own.”

“You play dirty, Grayson.”

“I play to win, D.”

“Wow, who would have thought a video would be his Achilles heel.” Stephanie laughed. 

“If I promise not to lie to you again about my whereabouts, will you let me out of this?” Tim tried, know it was futile.

“Not a chance. And try to change you schedule to get out of this, and you can bet I will get Tam involved.” Dick responded.  
Tim scowled at him. “You do play dirty.” 

“If I am going to have to suffer through this, Drake, you can be damn well sure I am going to ensure that you suffer through it, too.”

“Yeah, Tim, don’t be a pain in the calcaneus.” Jason said, smirking at his own joke.

Knowing it was pointless, Tim could only shake his head and accept defeat.

And that is how over the course of the next few months, the bat family became pedicure regulars. Tim’s once quiet salon became loud and boisterous, filled with laughter, gossip, and plenty of trolling. And Tim found himself not minding it nearly as much as he thought he would. He wasn't sure if it was Dick’s nonstop chatter, the fact that Jason somehow knew everything going on in pop culture, Stephanie’s ability to make Damian answer all the embarrassing quizzes in the teen magazines lying around, or the few times that Cass was able to join them, but Tim found himself liking the company more than the solitude.

And when Bruce asked him just how was it that he managed to get his entire family together regularly, he’d just shrug his shoulders, and say “Well, we decided to get together for some footwork.”

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own the characters in this story. However the typos, misplaced punctuation, and grammatical errors are 100% mine. And I apologize profusely for them. I so very happy to finally get something finished and out there for the first time in years. :) Thanks for reading!


End file.
